You know how at festivals there’s always some over-excitable berk dancing like a maniac even though it’s only 1pm and the only noise coming from the stage is that of a roadie shouting “One, two… two, two, one…”?

Tragic, isn’t it?

Unless, of course, everyone else piles in – in which case said dancing berk suddenly looks less like a lone nutter and more like a shamanic, party-starting visionary.

Caution: this approach probably wouldn’t work at Lounge On The Farm. Nobody would join in, they’d just tut and go back to their turnip smoothies.